


fingerprints

by shatterthelight



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 03:29:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9638933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shatterthelight/pseuds/shatterthelight
Summary: In every space between one kiss and the next, she always expects Dottie to run, and Dottie never does.





	

**I. head**

Peggy is smarter than this.

She thinks it every time she traces her fingers over Dottie’s back, skin touches skin, fire meets fire.  _Smarter than this._

It never stops her.

Dottie’s hair is black as all intention, and Peggy runs her hands through it as if every strand belongs to her.

Dottie leans in, whispers, “What are you thinking about?” in a voice like a knife wrapped in silk.

“We’re breaking rules,” she responds, curls her fingers around Dottie’s hair even as she says it. “Every single one of them.”

 

**II. eyes**

Dottie wonders why people write sonnets about eyes as blue as her own when there are women with eyes like _these_. The kind of eyes that hold you hostage, dark enough to swallow you whole. Chasing shadows. Sitting by the firelight. Lost in a forest during the witching hour.

She stares into them right now as she hovers over Peggy, whose hair spills over the side of the pillow. She stares and stares and stares.

“You’re distracted.”

Dottie sucks in her breath and sits back, feeling caught, somehow. Shaking off the sudden tension, she lowers herself back down and presses her lips against Peggy’s exposed collarbone.

“Tell me,” she works her way up, slowly, slowly, “something about myself.”

“Why?”

“I’m curious,” kiss her neck, touch her thigh, breathe the same air, “what the outside of me looks like to you.”

Peggy lets out either a laugh or a moan and then says, after several moments, “You’re unshakable.” Words that could be interpreted about ten different ways, and if Dottie knows Peggy at all, she means each one of them.

Still traveling upwards, Dottie brings her mouth inches away from Peggy’s and lingers there, looking into her eyes, searching.

Those eyes flicker, and they’re wide and unguarded and filled with the opposite of fear. And then she asks, so quiet she’s nearly inaudible, “What does the inside of you look like?” and it’s a challenge soaked in curiosity.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Dottie says, and lets her lips settle on their final destination.

 

**III. mouth**

Peggy never wins this battle.

 

**IV. hands**

She intertwines her fingers with Dottie’s and they sit up together, and Peggy knows she’s holding danger in her hands, and she can’t bring herself to let go.

Something unidentifiable flashes in Dottie’s eyes and Peggy holds her breath. This woman is, after all, something of a cat – swift and unafraid, but always on edge, waiting for a reason to flee.

In every space between one kiss and the next, she always expects Dottie to run, and Dottie never does.

She drops one of Dottie’s hands and cradles the other gently, as though it’s a fragile porcelain bird and not a blade sharpened to kill. Her skin is pale, warm snow and freckles, and when she turns her arm over she can see blue rivers run all the way down to the scars on her wrists.

She rubs her thumbs over them and says without thinking, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Dottie pulls her hands away. “It never hurts anymore.”

“I’m sorry it ever did.”

Taking Peggy by the shoulders, Dottie slowly pushes her back down and kisses her as fiercely as a crack of thunder, only once stopping long enough to say, “I’m not.”

  

**V. heart**

Dottie’s heart knows how to beat.

It doesn’t know how to skip or jump or flutter, and it certainly doesn’t know how to love. Her chest has always felt like a hollow space, an empty ribcage, a safe that holds nothing worth stealing.

But when Dottie Underwood kisses Peggy Carter, her whole body comes alive. Blood rushes through every inch of her veins, her pulse throbs in her ears, and her heart pounds, and races, and beats.

Right there, in the center of her heartless chest.

It beats, and it beats, and it beats.


End file.
